The Forge Child
by Uozumi
Summary: AU. It has been almost twenty-five years since Nero attempted to destroy Vulcan through toxins instead of red matter. Now only a hundred Vulcans remain in the universe and the inhospitable planet has only just become safe for exploration. full sum inside


**Fandom** _Star Trek AOS_  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Christine Chapel, Pavel Chekov, Amanda Grayson, James Kirk, Joanna McCoy, Leonard McCoy, Gary Mitchell, Christopher Pike, Puri, Sarek, Spock, Hikaru Sulu, T'Pol; McCoy/Spock (take it as you will)  
**Genre** Alternate Universe/Attraction/Disaster/Tragedy  
**Rating** PG-13  
**Word Count** 6531  
**Disclaimer** Star Trek c. Paramount, CBS, NBC. Harry Potter c. JK Rowling, Warner Bros.  
**Summary** It has been almost twenty-five years since Nero attempted to destroy Vulcan through toxins instead of red matter. Now only a hundred Vulcans remain in the universe and the inhospitable planet has only just become safe for exploration. When the USS Enterprise arrives for surface samples, McCoy encounters the planet's lone survivor, whose unique genetics and location saved him from those toxins.  
**Warning(s)** minor character deaths  
**Notes** Since I was thinking of _The Jungle Book_ when devising this story, I decided to make it ten scenes like _The Jungle Book_ is ten short stories. Much love to wafflez, whom this was written for. This fic took a ridiculous amount of time to write, but it was an interesting concept to play with. I hope I did it justice :D I put attraction as a genre because I'm not sure it's a romance but it's not really a friendship thing either.

_**The Forge Child**_****

I

The bodies were numerous. Babies, elderly, the young, and those in their prime all seemingly struck down in various positions. A lone child ran from body to body, pulling his dark cloak tight around his small frame. He found the priestess assigned to meet him upon completion of kahs-wan first and then followed the trail of death back to where he last saw his parents. Of course his Vulcan father and Earthen mother were not in the same spot he left them, but he knew that both should be somewhere amongst the bodies.

He could not state how he knew where to go, but eventually he did find them. Kneeling, the child's hand hovered over his father's eyes. He knew from the stench that this was no meditation, but he knew better than to disturb his father from such an act. Yet, there were customs that he must follow. He had attempted kahs-wan young. He had studies very hard and worked very hard to do that, and he knew what was required of him. The child breathed through his mouth, trying to keep from breathing with his nose, and solemnly lowered his father's eyelids. Then the child moved carefully and rolled his mother gently so that she lay on her back beside his father instead of on her side. When the corpse settled, the faintest "Spah…" escaped his mother's lips, causing the boy to pause.

He dared not move, his dark eyes transfixed upon her lips. They were purple, a sign of suffocation and death, but he thought he had almost heard her speak his name. Yet, her body did not move, the color did not return to her cheeks, and her eyes stayed closed.

The child could feel it within the depths of his heart. It was a sharp ache just below his ribs. Would it be logical to indulge in that ache? He had watched his mother, a rather exceptional human at conforming to Vulcan standards, cry over the loss of her father two years prior. It had not been anything overdone or loud, but he could still remember her silent tears when the message from Earth ended. Yet, the child could not recall ever seeing his father or any Vulcan cry. Tears threatened and the child shook his head. He had to attend to his parents' bodies since he was the only living relative they had in the area.

The child, right then, had no way of knowing he was the only living humanoid left on the planet.

**II**

They met on a transport jettisoning off to San Francisco where for the next three years they forged a strong friendship. It had taken some finagling, but Kirk was adept at these kinds of things and managed to get McCoy onto the same ship he was assigned upon graduation from Starfleet Academy. The ship was a large flagship named the USS Enterprise captained by Christopher Pike and represented the topmost graduates of the fleet. They had been on a five-year mission for the past two years, Kirk working on and off at the helm while McCoy relieved the CMO of duty so there was always a doctor in Sickbay no matter the time on the chronometer.

The pair stood shoulder to shoulder next to each other, two red shirts, and another blue shirt in the transport room. Captain Pike, the bags under his eyes more prominent in the dim lighting debriefed the group on their mission. As they knew, almost twenty-five years ago, a Romulan vessel appeared in Vulcan's orbit without warning. The ship, without warning, shot toxins strategically to the surface of the planet, enveloping it in toxic radiation and noxious fumes that attacked the nervous system. Recent scans of the planet showed that not all the wildlife expired with the Vulcans and other humanoid aliens on the surface. The levels of the toxins, according to planetary scanning over the past ten years showed a remarked drop in the toxicity. It would be unwise to eat or drink anything on the surface, but the atmosphere should not be toxic. As a precaution, they were going to take equipment needed in case of a spike in toxicity.

They were going to take samples of the land, plants, water, and other things. A doctor was necessary due to the violent life forms that could still be lurking on Vulcan. If a sandstorm were to start without warning, they would not be able to get back to the ship since the storm would obscure their signals for transport. They were going to try to go down and work quickly in two teams. There were conditions to require beaming up. Captain Pike also requested that engineering get the decontamination area ready for their return.

The six took to the transporter and soon were down on the land below. Sulu began scanning the area, all waiting to see if they should keep their facemasks on or if it was reasonable to remove them. After a while, he made an okay symbol with his hand and removed his own mask. "The levels are safe in this area at least."

"Alright," Captain Pike faced his men. "Kirk, this will be another test of leadership for you. I would like you, Sulu, and Reilly to head west. McCoy, Mitchell, you will come with me to the east. At the appointed time, signal to the ship to be beamed back up unless you are unable." Then the groups split off with a bit more instruction and headed on their separate ways. He did not want them to stay down too long for the heat would get to them if they were not careful.

The soil was arid and had a reddish tint to it, an after effect of the chemicals still existing. McCoy walked over to a small body of water in their area. There were few bodies of water on Vulcan and most were stagnant due to the tides being affected by planetary movement instead of movement of one or more moons. McCoy frowned as he knelt by the water. It smelled off and he tried not to think of all the microbes just waiting to touch his skin a burrow into it. He shook his head to clear it and then stopped gloved hand and vial extended over the water pool.

Slowly, McCoy looked over his shoulder and indeed a man stood behind him, looking down at him over his rather hooked nose. The man's knee-length hair was dark and wild, matted and unkempt. It curled past his shoulders. His clothes were nothing more than a large robe that smelled faintly of death. It had silver writing down the side proclaiming something in Vulcan. His pale feet were bare and covered in calluses, his toenails long and yellowed.

McCoy opened his mouth, but it was too dry to say anything. The planet's dry heat and the shock of this seeming apparition took away the doctor's voice. He coughed, trying to recover some phlegm to say something. The coughing continued longer than he meant as though his body had been holding back coughing for the duration of his time on the planet's surface. When McCoy recovered, the man was gone. McCoy looked around, trying to ascertain where the man had fled, but there was no sign. Just as McCoy was thinking of talking to Captain Pike about heat exposure and perhaps they should return to the ship earlier than estimated, he saw a set of bare footprints in the dirt.

Getting his sample of the water, McCoy secured it in his bag and started to follow the footprints. He did not think to draw his phaser. The man, if that was what he was, could have easily hurt him before McCoy saw his reflection in the water. Since the man did not, McCoy did not think of the phaser. "Hello?" he tried, hoping not to draw Pike or Mitchell's attention from where they were nearby. Since he had seen the footprints, he was not so eager to leave the planet's surface. If there were survivors here, they would need his help most of all. He continued to an area with foreign plants growing, spurred by the heat and the chemical changes in the climate. Over the almost twenty-five years since the death of the populace, Vulcan as a planet changed in landscape though it remained a hot desert planet.

McCoy wished that Sulu were with him to assure him there was some plant out of all of these he could touch. He did his best not to touch any of them, but it was very hard at times. "I'm not going to hurt you." It would also help if Uhura were here. She knew Vulcan even though there were maybe one hundred native speakers in the universe now. Well, a hundred and one if McCoy was not in the midst of some high level hallucination.

There was a low growl behind him and McCoy froze. Wildlife of Vulcan was not his specialty, but he did remember the brief rundown they received upon hearing they were heading for Vulcan. It was either a sehlat or a le-matya, neither of which were something he wanted to run into. McCoy remained as still as he dared, but if he was going to die, he thought it would be nice to know what was about to kill him. Slowly he turned and in that moment, something dark obscured his vision and a sickening screech echoed through the thorny brush.

A voice hissed what felt like instruction to McCoy and the doctor moved where he thought he was being told. The longhaired humanoid picked up a rather large bush, used it as a weapon, and drove the le-matya back, howling at the le-matya as though he was also such a creature the entire time. Once the creature was gone, the humanoid turned to McCoy and spoke to him, sounding more like a sehlat than human or Vulcan.

"I don't – I don't understand," McCoy answered, trying to talk slowly. If this man was real, he had to be roughly McCoy's own age. If that were true then at some point in his life this humanoid would have learned Federation standard. Unless he was younger than Kirk, but it was almost unfathomable that a toddler would have survived in this environment. It was even hard to imagine someone about ten surviving through all that experts claimed happened to Vulcan.

The humanoid reached out and grabbed onto McCoy's arm, pulling him over where he could assess the doctor's body for injury. He then proceeded to manhandle the doctor, checking for any hint of a scrape or poisoned wound. "Hey! Hey! I'm not some boulder." McCoy submitted to the inspection, though he conveyed his displeasure vocally. When the humanoid let him go, McCoy reached out catching the male's wrist. The humanoid froze as though something transmitted through McCoy's touch.

"Wait." McCoy let him go and the humanoid lingered. "Let me," he held up his scanner, "scan you." He began to scan the alien before him, batting his hand away when the alien tried to take the scanner from him. "No." Then he was done scanning and read through the results. He opened his mouth to comment on what he was seeing when he looked up, hearing someone approaching.

"McCoy!" It was Mitchell.

"Over here!" McCoy was about to turn his attention back to what he now knew to be a Vulcan-Earthling hybrid but the alien was gone.

**III**

The suns were setting and the desert began to cool. "I'Kei," he addressed the young sehlat walking beside him and then conveyed something in what could only be described as the language of the sehlat.

I'Kei grunted gruffly. He received his name for his ferocious nature. The half-breed also had a name, which he kept to himself, but would never forget. He was Spock as his father was Sarek and his forefather was Skon. His mother was Amanda. He had trouble remembering their faces and remembering their voices, but he kept their names, their heritage as alive as he could manage in his memory. Yet, the appearance of someone who looked like him but did not look like him, set his katra and his intellect ill at ease. The alien had tried to communicate with him, but somehow it did not completely click with Spock, though he knew he should know what was being said. He knew he had heard those words before. He thought those were the words he used when thinking in his own head.

At least he thought they were. Spock reached out and picked the green berries from a plant nearby, ignoring the yellow berries. The taste was bitter but the yellow would only lead to stomach cramps and a host of other problems. He let out a soft noise.

I'Kei snorted as though to tell Spock he was being ridiculous. Aliens were aliens, and Spock was of this planet, so why should he ever want to leave?

**IV**

"Bones…?" Kirk reached over and nudged his friend.

McCoy looked over at Kirk. They were both out on the planet's surface again only in another area. They were armed with more knowledge of the plant life thanks to xenobotanist Sulu. "I thought I saw something." Well, he had not seen anything, but he was looking for that alien from his last trip to the surface. He had written his report and included the encounter within it, but he had not vocally told anyone about it yet. He knew he should have at least broached the subject with Puri during their shift together, but he was not quite sure how to put it without sounding as if he was out in space too long.

Kirk took a step closer to the buffer they were standing some meters away. He squinted against the sun and peered as far as he could into the fledgling wilderness. "Like what?"

Then both of them saw it. A swish of black fabric retreating behind a rock formation only farther away than Kirk had first looked. Kirk instantly moved for his phaser, but McCoy grabbed his arm. "Don't."

"But, there isn't supposed to be any Vulcans left." Kirk looked at McCoy, but the doctor's grip tightened.

"He's not a threat." At least, not yet. He let Kirk's arm go. "I've interacted with him before." McCoy cleared his throat and then called out, "Hello," to the figure crouching behind the rock formation.

Slowly Spock appeared before them. His hair was still a mess and he was still wearing the black robe of someone deceased. He had spent the past two days since his encounter with McCoy thinking about what he wished to do and about before the even he personally referred to as "The Great Poisoning" in his head. He opened his mouth and at first, he sounded like a sehlat, but he closed his mouth and retried and a quiet, deep voice mimicked McCoy, "Hello." He placed his hand on his left side over his heart. "I," he patted his heart, "am Spock," he spoke in a slow deliberate manner. His dark eyes looked at McCoy and then to Kirk.

"I," Kirk put his hand on his chest over his own heart on instinct, "am Kirk." Then he reached over and gripped McCoy's shoulder, "and he is McCoy."

Spock tilted his head a little, taking in the information, trying to interpret it. The more he heard Federation standard, the more it stimulated his memory. He had been shadowing various shore parties, listening to them converse. He then decided that the next time he saw McCoy, he would approach. He did not think he could approach the aliens who had not encountered him before without risking problems. Spock rose up a hand and spread his fingers apart stiffly. It was the Vulcan greeting, but not quite. With more practice, it would become much more fluid.

"We should alert Dr. Puri and Captain Pike," Kirk stated. "Have you taken readings on his radioactivity?"

"As long as you don't bite him, you'll be fine," McCoy answered.

Spock's eyes narrowed a little without changing his expression greatly. Neither human seemed to notice.

**V**

"When the Vulcan council finds out about him, they will want him," Puri stated, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We can only reeducate him so far, but they must do the rest regardless. Even with the potential of this situation they still keep much from the Federation as a whole."

"They are an endangered species," McCoy agreed. He folded his arms and observed their charge resting in a secured location in Sickbay. Pike advised they keep the alien under close watch in Sickbay. He did not want Spock mingling with the crew until they understood the total threat he posed and even then, McCoy and Puri doubted their captain would allow Spock much more than a monitored guest room unless Spock acted out, then he might be transferred to the brig at that point.

"His reeducation appears to be going faster than a human's," Puri noted, "but it's slower than I would expect for a Vulcan." He looked away and ran a hand through his graying hair. "I supposed that's to be expected." He looked at McCoy. "It seems everything is calm now, Len, so I'm going to take my rest while I can get it. We have two more shifts down on that planet, so if anything catastrophic arises, don't feel you have to keep me asleep."

McCoy nodded and Puri left. Once the CMO had gone, McCoy looked over at Spock and then went about what business there was in Sickbay.

"Doctor," the deep voice drew McCoy's attention, "I do not understand this."

McCoy stopped his cleaning and walked over, peering at the viewscreen connected to Spock's biobed. "What's confusing?" He thought it was rather straight forward, a standard children's story placed in the reeducation system for those relearning how to read Federation standard.

"I do not understand the purpose of the story," Spock looked at McCoy. "There is no conflict."

McCoy glanced over the text. Then the smallest of smiles tugged his lips briefly at some memory. "The conflict is all internal," he said. "There doesn't have to be a dragon guarding a hostage to create conflict." He considered the story. "You see, the sisters have been together relying on each other for years. Then this bear prince shows up and that means they will have to separate. That's the conflict."

Spock eyed the viewscreen. "But what does it teach?"

"It doesn't have to teach anything. It's there to help children go to sleep."

Spock considered it and then removed the card from the slot. "Yes, that seems to be a common practice." He looked through what cards he had left. Then he looked back at McCoy, his ears twitching ever so slightly.

"What?" McCoy returned Spock's gaze.

"It is nothing," Spock answered and changed his data disk.

**VI**

"Do not worry, I have done this before," the Russian standing over Spock stated pleasantly.

"Don't loom over him with the scissors," McCoy said from where he was wrapping up someone's legs after a bad contact with a surface plant. All of the shore parties were back on board the starship and they were making their way to the nearest starbase. "He's smart but anybody who feels threatened can just react."

"I am not threatening," Chekov snorted. "Right, Spock?"

Spock considered Chekov and then asked, "Right…?" Homonyms were still tripping him up and colloquiums even more so. Yet, the reeducation program seemed to bring Spock up to speed in Federation standard at least.

"You want it cut the Vulcan way, yes?" Chekov asked, examining the long, damaged strands of Spock's hair.

Spock looked at the science ensign. "Yes." He knew that his hair would be shorter. He was not sure that he could remember what a "Vulcan way" would be, but he was Vulcan, so he could always grow it out later if it did not suit him.

McCoy could have given Spock a tolerable haircut, but it was not one of his fortes. The young science officer had happened in after hearing the rumor of a survivor. After two days of the ensign wandering into sickbay to interact with Spock, McCoy had asked Chekov to cut Spock's hair. Someone had to do it, and many people knew Chekov actually had a talent for hair. Also, it would be a productive interaction between the two.

"Sickbay becoming a barber shop?" Kirk entered, fresh off shift. When things were slow enough, Kirk would take whatever meal it was time for with McCoy before heading off to his cabin to complete his work and sleep.

McCoy finished bandaging the yeoman's legs in front of him and sent the man back to work with a histamine hypospray. "It's something that has to be done, might as well do it here."

Chekov began working at cutting Spock's hair, getting big chunks out of the way. Spock sat straight on his stool, careful not to let it turn as the younger male worked. He watched Kirk and McCoy when the scissors were not in his view.

Kirk leaned against a biobed while McCoy finished writing things in his PADD to add to the departed yeoman's file. "So you got the kid to cut his hair?" Even though Chekov was now nineteen instead of the young seventeen as when they met him, Kirk and many of the other crew still called him "the kid." They probably still would when they were old admiralty too.

"I'm a doctor, not a barber," McCoy pointed out and put his PADD away. He remained in the room to keep an eye on Spock and Chekov just in case the situation dissolved unintentionally. He looked at Kirk. "Do you think they're going to move him to the brig before we get to the starbase?"

Kirk looked over briefly at Spock and then turned his gaze back to McCoy. "As long as he stays cooperative, I doubt it. I mean we're going to turn him over to the Vulcans when we get there, and I don't think having him in the brig would go over well."

McCoy set his PADD aside. "How do we know that turning him over to the Vulcans is the right thing to do?" He folded his arms. "What are they going to do with him?"

"Probably what you're doing with him," Kirk said. "Educate him and then they'll reintroduce him to society or something." He looked at McCoy. "You know how the Vulcans are about increasing their population right now."

That was precisely why McCoy wondered. He did not bring it up with Kirk, but since Spock was a hybrid of human and Vulcan genetics, he was essentially sterile. Though he seemed to be functioning on the philosophy of logic, McCoy wondered how much Spock actually knew of the teachings that the Vulcans were still working on recovering since their temples were inaccessible. Since he was not Vulcan, McCoy did not know the intricacies of Vulcan life, but if the rumors were true, what place would Spock have amongst them? Maybe it was not as strictly about logic as the xenobiologist and xenocultural texts made it seem.

"Tilt your head," Chekov instructed and started to work what knots were left in Spock's now shorter hair. He then brushed it out as well as he could, making sure it was all-smooth before finishing the trimming. Spock obeyed his directions and with a few more snips, the haircut was finished. Chekov circled around, double-checking his work and then beamed. "It is good, yes?" He handed Spock a mirror.

Spock eyed the mirror. He had seen his reflection periodically over the past thirty years but it was still something to see it in a mirror instead of a puddle or lake. "It is acceptable," Spock stated and handed the mirror back to Chekov.

Chekov looked at him and placed the mirror where he found it. "It is more than acceptable," the nineteen-year-old retorted, but maybe he could tell that meant Spock might just like it.

**VII**

It was Delta shift, the graveyard shift. McCoy had an empty Sickbay except for the half Vulcan sleeping in his secured location. It was the time for catching up on work and making sure everything was ready for the influx that always seemed to occur at the start of Alpha shift. Yet, here he was outside of his office doing rounds even though Spock was becoming less and less of a patient as they neared the starbase. He stopped walking, standing across the room from Spock, watching his form. The filthy Vulcan robe had been replaced by a blue medical jumpsuit and dark medical undershirt. His feet were bare and the Vulcan's toes flexed in his sleep.

McCoy walked over with a small sigh and moved to place the blanket back over his charge's feet when he paused. Xenobiology claimed that Vulcans did not dream, preferring to use meditation in place of dreaming. Yet, even Vulcans did sleep, albeit not as frequently as humans. McCoy leaned down a little and studied Spock's fingers gripping onto the pillow. Spock's knuckles looked white and though his face remained placid, his teeth were set together sharply.

"Spock." He reached down and gripped the other male's shoulder. "Spock, wake up." It was the first he had seen the alien sleep and it seemed Spock was having a nightmare.

Within seconds, Spock had a fistful of McCoy's shirt and the two tumbled to the floor with McCoy unable to move. Spock leaned over him, pinning McCoy's legs with his own, and both his hands securing McCoy's arms. The flow of emotion instantly projected from McCoy hit Spock, overwhelming the younger male.

"Doctor…? Doctor!" Nurse Chapel ran over upon entering this section of Sickbay. "Get off him!" She picked up a nearby bedpan from a stack of clean ones, more confident with a weapon.

Spock released McCoy and got up, blocking the first swing of the bedpan with his arm.

"Christine, he didn't mean it," McCoy said muffled from his position on the floor. He slowly got up, hoping the bedpan was not still flying through the air. "I woke him without thinking about what might happen."

Chapel eyed Spock and then addressed McCoy without letting her eyes leave the alien that just had her boss pinned with no chance of retaliation on the floor, "Do you want me to stay?"

Spock simply raised an eyebrow at her. "It was not my intention to harm the doctor," he stated in a slow, mechanical manner. "I am accustomed to being woken because something is trying to eat me."

"I think everything's calmed down," McCoy stated, stepping between Chapel and Spock. "If I need you, I'll let you know."

Christine let her eyes leave Spock and looked at McCoy. "Alright. Be careful." She returned the bedpan to the stack she took it from and left them to tend to her own Delta shift duties.

Once they were alone, McCoy looked at Spock. "Are you okay?"

"She did not hurt me," Spock answered.

"No, I mean," McCoy picked the blanket up off the floor, "your nightmare."

Spock took the blanket from McCoy and began to put it back on the bed neatly. "I do not know what you are talking about," the response came faster than most from Spock. The slight pause of his hands showed he was even possibly unprepared for the speed of the response as well.

McCoy folded his arms. "A bad dream," McCoy rephrased. "Whatever was on your mind before you woke."

"There was nothing on my mind," Spock answered. He looked at the doctor. "You are a man of science," he paused, "you should know I should not dream."

McCoy's eyes narrowed. "I take it you've been reading the science portion of the reading."

"Science is," Spock thought for the right word, "fascinating." He finished making the bed but did not make any motions to sit or lie down upon it.

"That doesn't answer my question." McCoy's eyes fixed onto Spock's. "You are fully Vulcan. You can't expect to conform to their biological standards."

"Yet I already do," Spock said. "My organs are placed where theirs are, my blood is as green as theirs are," he held the doctor's gaze, "and I believe the teachings they teach." One of the few things left to him was the teachings of Surak and the scrolls and books kept in the temples. With the deal of all Vulcans coupled with the type of radiation from the toxins, electronic books filling the houses were defunct. Yet, there had been fires and what he did know of those teachings was what he had memorized now.

McCoy shook his head. "You can't ignore your human half. You aren't a clone of a Vulcan, but someone created from both genetics. Humans dream when they sleep, it's a function we don't control. Even with the best mastery over your emotions, it could be possible for you to dream out of necessity." He rocked on his heels a little. He could understand if Spock did not want to talk about whatever it was that had him clutching the pillow for dear life, but somehow flat out ignoring the concept of dreaming did not sit with the doctor.

Spock looked past McCoy and then his gaze returned. "Do you not have work to attend to?"

"You are the only patient here," McCoy pointed out, "you are my 'work to attend to.'" He took a deep breath. This Vulcan knew how to push his buttons without even trying to push his buttons. This Vulcan had also saved his life, so he could at least try to check his temper. He was a southern gentleman after all and he always paid back what he owed.

Spock considered this and then he inclined his head. "If I need anything, I will let you know."

It was what McCoy had told Chapel. "Monkey see, monkey do, I guess," McCoy murmured. At Spock's curious gaze, he said, "It's just a phrase."

**VIII**

"I trust that you will see to his needs?" Puri looked to the regal woman standing in the transporter room.

"We will not deny him his basic needs if that is the implication," the woman answered. Her hair was pulled away from her face, mostly gray save for streaks of brown. "We do not harm our own any longer." When she was young, there was a great backlash against those who entered others minds, but now any Vulcan was accepted lest their species go extinct.

"That is not what I meant," Puri answered, "I mean beyond food, shelter, and water."

She followed him from the transporter to Sickbay. Once they entered the area, he led her to the special area for dangerous charges. "Spock, it is time," Puri announced.

The young Vulcan rose from the cot and looked at the woman standing before him. He offered her the Vulcan hand gesture used for greetings and departures, yet he could not find the Vulcan words to accompany it. There was something about this woman that stirred his memory but not enough for him to recall her specifically. Perhaps it was her appearance with her hairstyle and clothing that stirred it more than her specifically.

She returned his gesture and spoke the Vulcan words of greeting. "I am T'Pol." She looked at him closely. "You are Spock, son of Sarek." Yes, no one could forget the only viable Vulcan and Human crossbreed. The young Vulcan standing before her had the nose of that clan but his eyes were undeniably human despite their lack of emotiveness currently.

"I am," Spock answered. He watched her, his eyes taking in her ears, her nose, and the color and texture of her hair. She was shorter than he was and her skin was wrinkled. He looked to Puri.

"Dr. McCoy is sleeping," Puri answered the unspoken question. "I'm sure he will miss you. We all will."

Spock looked at Puri and then inclined his head. "I have seen to my goodbye with him." He exchanged a look with Nurse Chapel, who had let him leave McCoy a note using her PADD when Puri went to retrieve T'Pol from the transport room. His eyes returned to T'Pol. "I am ready to leave."

**IX**

The new Vulcan colony took up an inhabitable portion of a much larger planet. The dry arid desert would fit them through growth for the next few generations. Spock led a group of five young Vulcans along a path. He was older and wiser than when he arrived at the colony, steeped in Vulcan knowledge along with what he gained from Earth as well. Spock reached out and held up some fruit. Within moments, a native bat-like creature landed up on his hand and began to feast upon the treat. He lowered his hand, allowing the children to examine the creature.

"Why do animals come to you so easily?" a young Vulcan girl asked, her eyes watching the bat with masked fascination.

"Animals respond to what we are on the inside," Spock answered. "They can even sense that which we strive to control." The fruit would soon be gone and Spock moved his fingers so the bat had room to take flight when it was ready.

"So if we had greater control," a boy noted, "animals would come to us more often?" He looked at Spock's face curiously. They children were at the age in which the famous Vulcan control was still elusive on occasion.

"That remains to be seen," Spock replied. He raised his palm up now that the fruit was gone. Their eyes followed the bat into the air. Spock's lingered longest on a faint star so very far away.

It was the sun that Earth revolved around.

**X**

"Bye-bye, Grandpa," the little girl waved enthusiastically then bounded out of sight of the transmission.

"If you need anything, Dad," Joanna said upon returning to the viewscreen display, "you can call me at any time."

"I'm not that old," McCoy murmured, "and being an instructor is easier than going here there and everywhere." He leaned back in his seat and then glanced at his chronometer.

"It's getting late here," Joanna seemed to say what McCoy was wondering. "I'll let you go." They exchanged goodbyes and affections, and then the viewscreen was blank. McCoy looked to the papers waiting his attention and other things related to his work now as an academy instructor for the future medical staff of Starfleet. He also had a communication from the now Admiral James T. Kirk, but that too could wait. McCoy rose from his desk and headed out of his small near campus lodging to go for a walk in the twilight.

He entered campus, side stepping those rushing off to get drunk or laid. McCoy placed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and continued along his way to the campus gardens. The gardens were made up of various plants from around the known universe sectioned off here and there to keep from potentially killing certain species wandering in and out of campus. McCoy entered the gardens pertaining to the Alpha quadrant and began to wander the maze of plants. Sometimes he could not stay long in the gardens but tonight the nightmarish memories of the final mission he was on the Enterprise did not persist. It had been a rough final mission at the end of the second five-year tour, ending in Sulu's death in his Sickbay. He knew no matter how many times he replayed the events that Sulu would not have survived with the use of anything on that ship, but sometimes McCoy felt like he could have done more and pulled a miracle out of nowhere in the end.

Shaking his head, McCoy cleared his thoughts. The walk was supposed to help not make things more muddled. He stopped at a case reinforced with a transparent metal used to keep radiation from contaminating the gardens and campus. Inside were various plants from the planet Vulcan, which was still abandoned, save for scientists studying the ecology of the planet. McCoy looked at the fruit bearing plants. The berries were so tiny and some looked like if you even so much as put your tongue on them you were going to die. McCoy remembered parts of that first trip to Vulcan when Pike was captain. He remembered the journey to the starbase afterwards more so. Ever since Spock had left, he had not had an encounter with an alien like that before. Sometimes he wondered if Spock was still alive or if the long exposure to radiation had drastically altered his life expectancy so not even a quarter of a typical Vulcan lifespan.

McCoy's eyes widened a little and he debated moving. It would not be the first time he saw something that was not there. That seemed to be the lot in life for many who had given decades to Starfleet. He did not want to admit that he was starting his service crazies before he was in triple digits. Taking a deep breath, the doctor closed his eyes to the reflection in the transparent metal and slowly turned. Once he was facing what he knew had to be a high-level apparition, McCoy opened his eyes, his gaze finding Spock's eyes.

Spock stood in simple but Vulcan clothing, his hands folded behind him, quietly observing McCoy. His hair was still dark but his skin was a more natural color. He also seemed taller than last they were in each other's presence.

McCoy looked at his hand and tried to negotiate his fingers properly. "That thing…with your hand…" he managed a weak V with his fingers together and showed it to Spock. "I don't know the saying." He had read up on Vulcans over the years and even encountered a Vulcan student in one of his classes this semester.

Spock raised his hand, presenting McCoy with a much more fluid gesture. "Live long and prosper." He lowered the hand.

McCoy took a step forward. "I heard the Vulcan ambassador was in town."

"I am assisting her," Spock stated. "I do not have to return to her side immediately."

McCoy bounced a little on the balls of his feet. "Have you ever been around here before?"

Spock considered the question and then he asked, "'Around here?'" Did the doctor mean this part of the gardens or the whole gardens or the campus or the city or even the planet? Spock was not sure.

"Campus, San Francisco, this neck of the woods," McCoy moved a hand around as though to gesture that he meant all of it.

Spock was not sure which woods McCoy spoke of, but decided to respond with a most definite, "I have not."

McCoy let a smile play onto his face. "Then, it's time you did." He stepped over to Spock and the pair continued through the section of the gardens and onto whatever adventure might find them outside.

**The End**


End file.
